


Cinnamon

by btwkris



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Death, Kidnapping, M/M, Violence, it's not really a ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btwkris/pseuds/btwkris
Summary: What really goes bump in the night.





	Cinnamon

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this some day that I forgot about and I don't even know.

Mahoney's not sure what time he drifts awake, but he knows that the sun isn't even up yet and it's just a shadow in the sky. He's not quite sure what causes him to wake up, but the light from the kitchen is shining in through the crack in his door and the strong smell of cinnamon. There's another smell that he can't seem to comprehend, but it's masked by the smell of cinnamon, and he slowly pulls himself out of the bed. It had been a restless day, so he was dressed in a pair of sweats and tank top, what he had been wearing that day.

He glances at the clock, and it reads 5:35 AM, and something just doesn't feel quite right.

You know when your stomach gets that weird fuzzy feeling, when something doesn't seem okay, or things may not be what they seem? That's the feeling that was making his stomach do flips, as he pushed himself off and rubbed his eyes, still half asleep.

A part of him makes him want to call out to his sister, or his mother- anyone, but as he opens his mouth, he stops himself and just settles for pushing the door open and peaking out. He can see a shadow in the kitchen, moving around in the kitchen and he doesn't really know who it could be. He was the youngest in the family, merely nineteen, when it came to his sister who was twenty five. Besides them, it was just their mother and father.

Life wasn't the best, with the yelling and the screaming he had to endure, but it was alright.

When he finally decides to speak, his mouth drops open to form the word when he rounds the corner to find out who was in his kitchen after all.

He should've just stayed in bed.

It wasn't his sister, nor his father or his mother. Actually, he didn't even know who the guy was or why he was in his kitchen.

His heart was almost in his throat, and his stomach dropped as he stood silently in front of the mysterious guy, who was in the middle of pulling some cinnamon buns out of the oven. Though, that wasn't what made him almost turn and run.

It was the blood.

The obvious substance covered the others forearms, and splatters on his pure white shirt and some on his face.

"Who are you?" Why did he have to open his mouth, why couldn't he just make for a run for it- stupid Mahoney, stupid-

He seems to catch the other off guard, as the dark haired male nearly splatters the pan to the ground, hitting his knee off the oven and muttering a curse, pulling the oven mitts off and turning to face the other. Though, the look of surprise is quickly replaced with a wide grin, almost happy to see Mahoney.

"You're awake! I was wondering how long it would take you, actually, I'm surprised you didn't wake up to the muffled screaming. You sure are a deep sleeper, angel." The mysterious man put his hands on his hips, his eyes trailing down Mahoney's frame which made him definitely uncomfortable.

Mahoney took a step back in shock, this had to be some sort of joke, "What?"

Stupid, stupid Mahoney.

Stranger is silent for a moment as if he was thinking what to say, before shrugging, "Well, you know, I killed your family or whatever- All of them. They're in the basement, you can go see if you want. Doesn't matter to me." He said casually.

"Okay, really funny. You must be a friend of my sisters, or one of her weirdo boyfriends. Where are they?" He said, with a shake of his head, as he looked around before turning his gaze to the other.

Who didn't look very happy.

"Woah." Spoke the stranger, striding over to Mahoney and grasping his forearm, starting to tug him, dragging him over towards the stairs to the downstairs, his grip tight. "Let go-" Mahoney said with a small whine, wanting this joke just to be over so he could go back to bed.

The masked smell got stronger, as he was pulled down the stairs, where a blood trail started.

"That sister, god did she scream a lot. Had to stuff a rag in her mouth, wouldn't shut up. It's like she was dying or something." Stranger laughed, as if he was proud of the joke, shaking his head with a grin. "I mean, probably runs in the family. I can just imagine how loud you are." He added.

Mahoney wasn't sure if he was referring to when he was dying, or-

It didn't matter.

He feels himself gag when the smell finally hits him full on, not even reaching the bottom of the stairs, and he wrinkles his nose. "You get used to it, after awhile." The stranger spoke again, not even looking bothered by the ratchet smell.

As they reached the bottom, the pools of blood had stained the stapled down carpet, and in the corner lay dead, his family. The smell was too real, it couldn't be faked, he actually felt himself gag and his throat burn.

There was so much blood, he knew how much blood was in the human body but this just seemed like so much.

So much blood.

"You can call me James. I did murder your family, after all. You deserve my name."

That was all it took for the younger male to empty his supper onto the ground, choking back tears as he bent down.

"Should've saw that coming." 'James' mused as he lightly patted on the other's back, chuckling softly.

It takes him a few minutes to recover before he wipes his mouth, his body shaking as he holds back the sobs that desperately want to escape. He had so many questions, why him, why them- why, why, why. How could this happen?

"Why?" Was all he croaked out, his throat scratching from his previous actions.

"Why not?" Was the only response he got, and a shrug of his shoulders. "I stood over your bed and I admired you, so innocent, in a world full of disaster. It's such a pity to take away something so pure, that would make me just a monster." James laughed.

Mahoney's not sure what's happening for a minute or so, but he knows that James is leading him back upstairs, the stupid smile still on his lips, and an arm guiding where he wanted the other to go. "I figured you'd be such a nice play thing, my little angel. It could be fun." He wasn't sure if the murdered was trying to make him feel better, or if he just didn't care.

"So, while I enjoy some of these delicious cinnamon rolls, go pack some shit that you'll want to take. Maybe if you're good, I'll give you one." James acted as if he was a dog, and if he was good, he'd get a treat.

"You can't do this- you can't. I wont go with you, you cant-" He tried to defend, but it resulted with a sharp pain his cheek from the slap the other had administered, it hurt too, stinging.

"It's been a long night, honey. And I'm not ready to wait around. /Go get your stuff./" James's voice was low as he dropped his hand, turning on his heel and facing the kitchen. "Don't even think about running, because it wont work. It never does." He added.

Tears welling in his eyes, he cradles his cheek, where he knows there a bruise will form before he dashes off to his room, biting his tongue so he would give the other the satisfaction of hearing him cry. How could this be happening? Why couldn't this just be a nightmare he could file away with the rest? It doesn't seem real, what's happening right now, it just doesn't.

His family is dead and this strange man want's him as his play thing.

How could it get any worse?

Actually, lets not even think about that.

His cheek stings and he pulls out his school bag, dumping the contents out and stuffing clothes and such in there. What else was he supposed to do? He's scared, too afraid to try and climb out the window or escape. He's shaking, he's full of goosebumps, and he's still tired and his eyes are heavy. He picks whatever and shoves it in there, pausing over his sketchbook before stuffing it in there as well with a couple pencils.

It isn't until he shoves his MP3 player and headphones in and he reaches for his phone, that it's gone. Of course, James must have grabbed it when he was in here before, shuddering a bit that the other had been watching him sleep. Mahoney pulls a sweater off his door, it's black, and pulls it over his head and pauses, inhaling and wiping his eyes.

It's okay, eventually, the cops will come and notice the struggle-

They'll know somewhere had been here and, they'll find him.

He drops the bag as he shifts, pulling a bunch of sticky notes out and a pencil as he scribbles a note down and he sticks it on the edge of the bed, not very noticeable but with the cops, yes.

Just as he finishes and tucks the stuff away, the door swings open and he cans see James eating, of course, a cinnamon roll.

"Let's go sweetheart, got to get a move on."


End file.
